


Eden

by KanshikanKougami



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, College Student Eren Yeager, M/M, Painter!Levi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:11:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KanshikanKougami/pseuds/KanshikanKougami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi Ackerman is a thirty year old artist living in New York city to try and become famous and make an honest living for once. One simple day becomes unforgettable. All because of a college student with emerald eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Simple

**Author's Note:**

> This is an Ereri au where Levi has a stern role of being captivated by Eren instead of the other way around. Levi is pretty much the creepy artist with a sick obsession with Eren; the college freshman who ran him over with his bike and lives across the street from him. He won't admit it aloud but lol it begins to get obvious.

 The day would always start off simple for the aspiring artist; late and irate. New York offered a more realistic belief than the slums of the underground market in France. Here, art was a major culture from graffiti to fashion. New York is the state of art, his mother had said to him when he was a little boy. He watched her paint for years, devoting her life to the canvas.

              He also watched her _withering away_ each month an expo didn't go in her favor. From city to city they traveled in hopes of becoming famous. While her art was based off things that one would see in the everyday life, there was also emotions coded into each stroke of the brush. Notre dame wasn't just any old picture of the aged cathedral, but on fire and the streets raging with the French revolution around it. She envisioned so much for only small pay. Her dying wish was for her son to find his calling. Figure out where she went wrong.

                Dashing madly through the streets, the man _desperately_ clings to the painting in his hand, breaths labored and frantic. He normally shoves the New Yorkers out his damn way when he's in a hurry except today he decides to cut through central park and be at his destination. He's nearly there until some idiot smashes their bike into his side. Whatever breath he had is now gone and he's sitting on the pathway with a pained scowl.

"Shit! I didn't see you there! Are you okay?" The young boy sounds worried and it's only then that the artist decides to not skin him alive for getting his blue trench coat dirty.

    " _Ch.._ I'm fine, shitty brat. Next time, slow the fuck down." Maybe he skinned him just a little bit. He can tell by the boy's awkward shuffle that he's debating on helping him up or fleeing the scene. Typical. However, arms wrap tightly around his waist and he's being pulled up. The man situated his paintings before glaring at the brat.

      _Oh..._

This _brat_.. has the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen in his life. Big shiny emeralds. Almost glowing in the sunless sky. He could have sworn he was ran over by an angel.

    "...did you hear me?"

Huh. Oh, no he didn't. Too busy gazing into those never-ending pools of green. Like a heavenly field that he wouldn't mind being lost in. The boy doesn't repeat whatever he said and leaves the artist with a goodbye and another heartfelt apology.

****

      "Levi? How many did you make today?"

"The same as last time. Only three." The man grunts out. Petra Ral settles down across from him at the small table with tea while they both wait for the expo to end. It's an extravagant art show where thousands come to view and even buy beautiful pieces. It's here that an artist can get noticed and become famous. Levi never _truly painted_ for the money or recognition. It's the only way he can express his feelings instead of speaking them aloud. His friends at work all learned to understand it, after learning the hard way. Petra had enjoyed Levi's work, even went as far as to say it inspired her. The words were kind, yet not exactly enough to make him feel he'd found his true calling. Something was still missing.

" _No one_ has even bothered to look at my paintings. It's almost like when my mother used to go to these shitty expos. These uptight swines don't know the **true meaning of art.** "

Levi hissed under his breath. No matter how many times he came here, the outcome was painfully the same. No one buys his work and he's stuck sulking in his apartment and getting no sleep. The bags beneath his eyes are heavy enough already. He doesn’t need anymore stress. 

“People have different tastes, Levi.” 

“T'ch.. I _know_ that already.” 

Five more hours and Levi is yawning tears. He grabs his blue trench coat up and drapes it over an arm, bidding Petra a brief farewell. It looks like he’ll be packing up his work after all. Figures. He makes his way down the now bare halls and steps into the showcase gallery to collect his paintings. However, they aren’t there anymore. The entire room has been cleared out. Levi thinks this is impossible; it fucking has to be since he didn’t see anyone walk out with his work. Or even pay him. Thankfully, he can ask the receptionist at the front desk. 

“Ah, so you’re mister Ackerman. You just missed your customer! He left the money here since he couldn’t find you to get your actual selling price.” 

Levi blinks. How can someone leave money for artwork that had no price value on it? He’s pretty sure he didn’t leave much. 

“Well? How _much_ did he leave?” 

“Two thousand.” 

What? He made two thousand dollars?! He steps closer to the desk, watching the woman gather the money. 

“In all, you made six thousand. He left two thousand for each painting.” 

There’s no way in hell the bastard paid him six thousand dollars for each piece. Levi would have liked to have seen what this man looked like. Was it some rich pig or a person who truly admired the inspiration of his work. He takes the money quickly, shoving it into his wallet and starting for home. There’s now two things that are bothering him: this mysterious buyer and that boy’s emerald eyes. Chances are he’ll never solve either mysteries, much less see the boy again. He cannot and will not forget his face. Tanned skin, brunette hair and shining green eyes. That boy was a walking sculpture.


	2. Not so simple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This is the second and hopefully longer chapter of the story and things can start to get real juicy. Don't worry, Levi is in this part.

Eren Jaeger never thought that moving to New York city for college would be so hectic in his life. From the congestion of the traffic to the busy sidewalks, this city truly was alive both day and night. It also made getting to campus extremely difficult when you're on a bike. No matter how many paths he took or shortcuts, somehow, someone ended up in his way to slow him down. Today was summer break and classes were set free from their imprisonment of textbooks and exams. Eren certainly needed that break -- he studied so damn hard and hoped it wouldn't be all for nothing. 

How hard could it be? It's probably something all freshmen say until they reach the second semester. He'll certainly have to keep a positive mind like Armin told him before. It's the best way to prosper in anything. Inspiration. Too bad his bike was inspired to crash into a man and put him on his ass. He could tell the man was obviously upset or even hurt judging by how he kept sitting there. With this pained scowl. Scaryscaryscary.

"Shit, I didn't see you there! Are you alright?" Eren asked, genuinely concerned about the man's well being. He still refuses to look up at him. To Eren it seems like he's about to get up and kick his ass, except he finally speaks curtly.

"Ch.. I'm fine, shitty brat. Next time, slow the fuck down."

Thank goodness it's not a threat to kick teeth out or something mean like that. Eren isn't sure how old the man is, but he's guessing that he's in his late twenties or early thirties. If one ignore the dark circles and bags beneath his blue-grey eyes, then he looks even younger than that. No matter his age, Eren still helps the man to his unstable feet after hesitating for so damn long. Their eyes meet and while he can't entirely be sure, this man seems starstruck. Just silently staring into his eyes with an indescribable look. It gives Eren time to remember those lovely paintings the man had picked up.

"Are you an artist or did someone else make those?" Silence. The man is just fucking silent. Still staring up into his eyes. He...didn't hit the man that hard, did he? "Did you hear me?" Eren attempts and when he's met with more silence, all he can do is bid farewell and another apology before riding off. Sometimes, people can be awkward creeps and not the accidental kind.

Eren reached campus soon or late enough to get chewed out by his professor. How embarrassing... I'm getting chewed out on the last day of class. Eren thought flatly. Had he not run into mister creep earlier, he wouldn't be getting a fucking lecture. He finally takes his seat and does his work, waiting almost impatiently for the bell to set him free.

The wait isn't even long. The entire campus seems to be a zoo when the bell rings, and Eren is among them. Throwing his papers in the air like it's a graduation cap.

"Calm down, Eren." Mikasa murmured, pulling her crimson scarf up to hide her stoic scowl. Such loud and obnoxious behavior was beyond the nineteen year old girl.

 Eren scoffed beneath his ecstatic breath and tossed all his papers up, even helping Armin discard his own. Mikasa was a thorn in his side since she was adopted by his parents, always treating him like some irresponsible brat.

"It's not my fault you were born without a sense of 'just have fun and live a damn little'. Don't bring me and Armin down with you." Eren muttered.

"Actually," Armin began rather loudly over the noise, "Mikasa does kind of have a point. Shouldn't we be keeping those papers to study? Worse than that, what if they give detention to everyone who threw their papers?"

Wow. Seriously, wow. Eren couldn't believe his best friends. Both of them were fucking sticks in the mud. "Then only people who wouldn't understand the joy of students is party crashers like you two." Eren retorted.

When he thinks back on it, that may have been why they weren't invited to any parties. Even Jean and Marco got invited to the spring break bash. However, Eren refused to suffer because of them this bash. He was going to party hard and enjoy himself.

Or at least attempt to. Mikasa always drilled him about drinking and no matter how many times he pointed out Marco --seriously Marco of all people-- was taking the keg challenge, she repeatedly said no. Not a normal no.

A motherly no.

He had noticed these things shortly after his mother died. Eren didn't want another mother or some clingy sister. He wanted a friend he could rely on and would do fun shit with him. Such as tossing papers in the damn air and whooping.

 The trio finally went to a cafe for lunch when Armin finally asked the most important question of the day.

"Now that summer break is here...what are we going to do today?"

"There's a play tonight." Mikasa said. "We should go to that."

"Actually," Eren almost hesitated before pushing over a pamphlet. "There's an art expo tonight I wanted to check out.."

Armin's eyes lit up at the mention of the art expo.

"I never knew you were into those things, Eren!"

"Neither did I.." Mikasa folded her arms, eyes narrowed. "You're not just saying that to get out of going to the play with us, are you?" She asked. It was hilarious how she had already decided on a damn play when Armin hadn't even voiced his own suggestion.

"No. I like art stuff, alright? 

"Since?"

"Since...since I said so, damn it!"

He's going to pretend he didn't slam his fist down hard enough to spill his milkshake into his lap. Always stupid Mikasa pissing him off!

And if that's not bad, she trying to clean him like he's incapable of taking care of himself. The boy makes a mad dash for the bathroom and let's out a sigh of relief once it closes behind him. Finally, he's safe - until he has to go back out.

Eren examines himself in the mirror and grabs a few paper towels to wipe his green hoodie clean as best as he can before slumping against the wall. Yes, this is a crummy bathroom and yes he probably looks like an idiot for just standing there, watching the minutes tick by. 

That's when his phone vibrates.

He's quick to pull the phone out and read the text message from Mikasa.

'Oi, you took so long in the bathroom that me and Armin decided to head to the play. Meet us there.'

Eren scoffed at the demanding invitation and headed out the bathroom with his newfound freedom. He felt bad for Armin, but in the end he was free to do what he wanted as well.

Once nighttime came, New York became the american Paris; the city of lights. Horns honked and people crowded the streets to see every event available, including the art expo. Eren entered the building wearing one of his finest suits that he still had from his senior prom and eyed the art plastered on the walls. 

To be honest, the owners or buyers looked like wealthy people just anxious to steal away with a timeless piece just because the artist was well known. Eren was not that kind of person.

 He enjoyed the beautiful inspiration art could give someone; a hidden code behind each stroke and each completion. Some even told stories about one's life. Such as the ones painted before his eyes. It was of a pale Asian woman holding a baby boy in her arms. She cried for some reason and Eren wanted to know why. Surely someone as beautiful as she shouldn't be sad.

The label was Kuchel Ackerman.

All the paintings were. The same woman in each one with a little boy who seemed happy in a few. But the scenery always changed; the boy gradually getting older until the woman no longer appeared in the last painting.

 Oh.

She died sadly. Eren was able to figure that out and with it, his heart sunk. Such raw emotion and beauty, he had to have it! Each piece was worth something, though he didn't see the artist around for the real estimates. Probably high priced anyway. Eren had no qualms with giving up six thousand dollars all together. 

 Too bad he couldn't get to meet the man behind such work.

 It was late when Eren returned to his apartment; no use staying in a shitty dorm when he was free for four months. Nothing extraordinary; just a nice sized place across the street from the penthouses and condos. They had terraces that stretched all the way around to bedrooms, giving a nice view of liberty island. 

It was a place he could never afford and probably never live in. His mother used to always say that if he believed he could be anywhere or have anything he wanted, he'd have it. Maybe not a penthouse, but a suburban house in a nice neighborhood with green grass and a white picket fence. That's where business got certain people. Either that or a detective.

"We'll figure something out, Heichou." Eren whispered to his calico cat. He watched the brunette boy hang up his pictures and fill up his bowl before scampering off.

Eren began cleaning up, dancing along to the radio while he did such. It's not like he had much to do except mop and take out the trash. However... It was then that he felt it.

Someone was watching him.

 And not just a normal glance, but a long stare.

Eren placed the lid on the trashcan, trying to gather his nerves to look up at whoever the figure was watching. Slowly, emeralds locked a dark figure across the street and his breath hitched. Caught.

 It was the man from earlier.

 The creepy man he hit with his bike on his way to class.

Only for a second Eren wants run, hide. He wants to act like he didn't notice the man standing there. But fuck; it really was inevitable.

 So finally, Eren raises his hand and waves at him. Nothing much, just a friendly gesture before he turns to head back.

"Oi!"

Ohgodohgodohgod! 

Eren whips around, hoping his look of horror isn't showing enough that the man picks up on it. By now he's several feet from him, arms folded across his tight chest and a grouchy face with exhausted, narrow eyes.

"Um...is everything okay?" Eren asks, trying so hard to avoid his scrutinizing gaze yet again. 

"Wasn't aware anything was wrong." He retorted. "I didn't know anyone lived in this apartment.. it's been empty for a while."

"Oh! Y-yeah.. I only stay here when school let's out. I go to Shingashina college." Eren replied. He saw the man's face light up a bit, as if he had found what he was looking for.

"Oh~? Not bad." 

In the back of Eren's rapidly spinning mind, he wondered why the guy even bothered to come over. Was it seriously to ask about him returning to his apartment or....something else? Eren wasn't going to jump to conclusions; he could've just wanted to break the monotony with their run in earlier.

 Except he never once brought it up...

It almost seemed like he forgot or was playing dumb to it all together. Eren certainly isn't going to bring that shit back up either. In case he was still pissy.

They both talked; the man was more of the listener while Eren spoke about school and his friends.

"You're getting into business?" He asked Eren. "Sounds like a big move for a brat. Takes a lot of experience."

Eren couldn't help the way his face twisted at being called a brat. He wondered why everyone thought becoming a businessman was such a challenging aspiration for him. "I'm capable, thank you very much. And if that doesn't work, I'll become a detective."

"Really?" The man hummed rather sweetly. "Doesn't that seem a bit intractable?" He steps closer and Eren steps back, not liking how his voice makes his head swim. 

"Not really. I'm capable of anything if I try hard enough."

"Being a detective is different from just the average donut eating pig. You have to have wit and focus. Your dreams are admirable though."

"You don't even know me!" Eren snapped. He felt himself get angry, frustrated. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? "Just because I'm young doesn't mean I can't be a detective or a businessman.... anything!"

"Not with an attitude like that."

"Go to hell."

"We're already living in it." The man leans in closer to Eren, narrowed eyes gleaming with another flash of hidden passion. His lips twitch; the movement is so faint that Eren might have imagined it. But he didn't. Couldn't have. There was something about this man that put him on edge.

"I'm Levi, by the way. Since we're going to be neighbors for a while, I might as well get introductions out the way." He says extending a small hand. Eren takes in the length of his long slender fingers and the cleanly cut nails. Not even a callous when they join hands.

"Eren Jaeger." Fuck, why'd he say his last name? Guy could be one of those creepy ass psychopaths. Undercut killer. Maniac midget. He watches Levi for some sort of.... something that would confirm his suspicions. Except he's unreadable.

 Nothing out of the ordinary.

"It's been a pleasure, Eren. Ah.. I'm sorry to cut our time short, but I left my casserole in the oven." Levi said and just like that he was back across the street and disappearing into his home without a goodnight or goodbye.

 Eren blinked once, twice. He couldn't believe the man actually left like.. Like what? Where the hell was his mind going? Shaking the thought off, he decides to head back inside himself.

.......but he can't help looking back. Just once.

And he could have sworn he saw Levi watching him from the top window.


End file.
